


Words Unsaid

by anotherupstart



Series: Words Unsaid [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherupstart/pseuds/anotherupstart
Summary: In a dystopian AU, there are no heroes. Just survivors. The words on his wrist mean that Tony Stark has a soulmate somewhere out there. But the world is too broken and he doesn't even imagine he can find his other half. Of course, Tony Stark is kidnapped--just another Tuesday right? Not this time.In a dystopian AU, there are no victors. Just pretenders. And Steve Rogers is pretending to be a crime lord, a vigilante, something unlike a broken human. It is a bitter cruel world and he has lost everything. His family, his friends, his past, even the words on his wrist. Perhaps he has a soulmate somewhere out there. But that is not what he needs. He needs information to bring down the Hydra Militia and the man with the answers he needs is tied up in his cellar.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Words Unsaid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933777
Comments: 25
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [leave the gun on the table](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882807) by [Myrime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime). 



The bag on his head smelled of vomit. There was a hint of sweat, spit and blood in the bouquet, but the overpowering element was vomit. It made Tony gag. But the cloth gag in his mouth was tight, making an attempt to breathe through his mouth utterly futile. Kidnappers could be so inconsiderate. And needlessly violent. Time ticked by. He got used to the smell and the dull ache in his head where he hit it as he fell. The stuffy bag felt like it was making his hair sweat. A bead of water tracked a path down into his eyes. He blinked. How long did they plan on leaving him here?  
And the day had begun so well. His shipments had sneaked through into the city with only the last truck lost. That was practically a perfect run. Of course he’d have to come up with a new route now that the government goons had figured this one out. But Tony Stark was smart that way. He could think on his feet. Pity he couldn’t think himself out of a bag.  
But it was his brain that kept his little smuggling operation alive, and the fact that he made friends easily. Or allies, if you wanted to nitpick. And the fact that he always made sure they owed him. The trick, as his father used to say, was to make them owe enough to be grateful but not so much that they became resentful. He wondered if he had slipped up and someone did begin to resent… who were these people? How did they know where to find him? Had he been betrayed? It was pointless to worry, he would soon find out and then he could worry. He concentrated on the last schematic he had been working on before he had stepped out for breakfast. Before the alley. Before the arm around his neck and the bag on his head. He was at the cusp of a breakthrough in the design for a new power coil for his engine, when the sounds of the door opening and footsteps reached him.  
The bag was yanked off. Tony blinked and breathed deeply. The air was comparatively fresher but he was in windowless cellar like room complete with mould stains and dripping pipes and a single naked bulb above his head. Very kidnapper chic. The gang around him, he could see three of them, had masks on their faces and he suddenly felt better. May be they didn’t intend killing him. May be they needed him. Maybe this was an interrogation. Maybe…  
Another man entered his prison and Tony’s breath stuck in his throat. _This can’t be happening_ , he thought. The man was tall and looked strong and handsome and oh god he glowed.. Did he know he shone? Like there was light or magic or something beautiful inside and it leaked from his skin? Tony felt his heart beat wild. It was like he could sense the power thrumming inside the stranger. And he realized he was afraid. Of the stranger and his strange power and also the fact that the man wore no mask.  
He stopped and frowned at Tony, tied up in the chair, all sweaty and small and weak and pathetic… stop it.  
And then the man spoke. Tony heard them. The words that were written into the skin on his wrist, pencil grey and cursive, curling over his pulse point.  
“Let’s do it then.”  
Even his voice was beautiful.  
And then it began. The punching, the kicking, the slapping. The beatdown. It came at almost the exact same time as the burn on his wrist, where hidden under his leather cuff Tony’s soulmate’s first words to him burned to ink black and seeped into the blood in his vein. Tony’s mind came alive with pain as memories of another lifetime poured into him in flashes like lightning and all the while his body was being pummeled by the men around him. He couldn’t breathe. His arm burned. He made the effort to keep his head steady through a ringing slap and tried to look at his soulmate. _This can’t be happening_ , he thought.  
That was when the punch across his jaw toppled the chair and he hit his head on the concrete floor with a sickening crunch.  
He sighed into the gag still tight around his mouth. As he lost consciousness his last thought was, _they didn’t even ask me a question_.

**

The beat down was neither better nor worse than the few Steve had overseen in his new life as a crime lord. And yet it felt a little off. He hadn’t even looked at the shape hunched into the chair as Bucky and Clint started off on him. The man had not made a single sound through the gag that covered the lower half of his face. Not a whimper, or even a grunt. But he had looked up at him once and Steve had gasped. Like something electric twanging near his spine. Then the chair had overbalanced and the man’s head had bounced against the floor. Steve winced. That was not right.  
“That’s enough.”  
Bucky and Clint stepped back from the mess of the man unconscious at their feet. They were breathing heavy and Steve knew it was anger not exertion that was pouring off his men in hot puffs. He leaned in front of the fallen man and reached out to check his head. His fingers came back bloody and his wrist began to itch. Steve pulled his hand back and straightened up. “Move him to the next room. I will do the questioning. Clean him up a bit, no bandages,” Steve said to Bucky. “And there is no need to hit an unconscious man. We are not savages. Do I make myself clear, Clint?” Steve spoke slowly and through gritted teeth to his men. The men nodded assent and picked the unconscious man up. Steve left the room. The itch was crawling up his arm.  
When he was alone, Steve looked down at his unmarked wrist. It had reddened where he had been scratching at it. It wasn’t always empty. He remembered having words there once, long ago. But like everything else, he had lost his soulmark too. He didn’t even remember the words any more. He had a vague memory of his mother singing a song about soulmates and telling him he was lucky. He knew she had died, he didn’t remember that. He knew he had lived on the streets for a while, he didn’t remember how long. He knew he had been taken by that mad scientist, he didn’t remember how. He had flashes of memory, of being imprisoned and injected and gassed, mostly of pain. Like he was burning from inside, and screaming. He knew he had not been alone, there had been a black boy in a cage and other young voices screaming in other cells. He knew he was there for a long time, he didn’t remember how long. He knew the doctor was dead. He remembered the man being kind, feeding him and stroking his fevered head through the worst of the pain. He remembered bits of whispered apologies. But mostly he remembered the screaming. His own and the other kids'.  
Steve remembered the fire and he knew he and the boy in the cage, Lucas, he'd said, had escaped. He didn’t remember how. He knew it had been a bitter winter that one. They had run and run. He remembered the snow drifts and their huffing breaths like mist hanging in front of their faces. He remembered the shock as he fell through a hole in the ground and snow had cascaded in after him, burying him in winter.  
Steve shivered. Of all things he had forgotten, he wished he could forget the cold. He scratched at his wrist absentmindedly. It had been blank when he had finally woken up, alone in the hole. He had slept through the winter. It was spring outside. Steve had changed. He was something different now. Something stronger, harder, colder. Over time, in flashes and in dreams, he remembered some things about the boy he had been. But the day he had woken up, his mind had been a blank slate. As blank as the wrist that would not stop itching right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. This is my first attempt at fanfic. It was a personal challenge to play with characters not my own, living in a world not quite their own and seeing where it goes. I welcome comments and criticism.  
> Myrime's Leave the Gun at the Table was my inspiration. I hope the end result is far enough from the original not to give offence.  
> Plot holes are the hazardous things I always fall into.


	2. Chapter 2

When Tony came to, he was seated again. The chair had been set upright, there was no bag over his head and he was alone. The gag had been removed, though he was still tied to a chair. But this was a new chair, one that was bolted firmly into the floor. There was a stool in the corner, but he couldn’t see any neatly laid out torture instruments, but then he had a very limited view of the room around him. He began to take stock of his wounds. His face was throbbing. His shoulder was wrenched. One eyelid felt heavy and swollen shut. His head hurt. Breathing was difficult, perhaps a few cracked ribs. His jaw hurt. He had bitten his tongue. His arm still throbbed.  
He looked down. His hands were no longer tied behind him but to the arm rests. He flexed his fingers and saw that his cuff was still in place. And that brought back another flood of emotions. This time, thankfully it was all his own.  
A soulmate. Not everyone got one. He knew that. And even those who had one did not always find them. But it was a good story and it had made him feel special. Most people wore cuffs—to cover their marks or the absence of one. Precious few people knew of his marks—his parents did, but they were gone now. His best friends and business partners, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy knew. He had told Jarvis a long time ago.  
He used to think it was wonderful that there was someone out there just for him. He used to imagine someone who would say the words and hand him a wrench as they began work on a project together. _Let’s do it then_. Or hold out a hand to him and say the words quietly, shyly before the first soft kiss. _Let’s do it then_. Then he had grown up and looked around at the world and seen all its hard edges and realized there was no place for softness in it. There was one time he had dreamt of a soulmate who said the words while getting ready to drive a truck through a checkpoint. In his dream they had held hands and died in a hail of bullets. _Let’s do it then_. This was not a world in which you could make a life together, but you sure as hell could die together. It had been a good dream. A nice sentiment. Then he had grown up some more and decided that it was not going to happen for him and he was alright with that. He had money, friends and a life of sorts. He had more than most and he was a version of happy. It was enough.  
But now he had a decision to make. He had found his soulmate and the man had broken his body in at least three places. It did not bother Tony that his soulmate was obviously a criminal, that would have been hypocritical. But the man was cruel. To get his men to beat a man who was outnumbered, tied down, defenseless… that was inexcusable. He had tried to take Tony’s dignity. And that Tony Stark could not forgive. Tony would never admit to being heartbroken. Or that heartbreak was worse than all the pain assailing him at the moment. But it was easy to admit that he was furious. He refused to lie down and take it. Metaphorically, at least. So, he straightened his back and pushed down on the pain. All of the pain.  
The door opened again and Tony’s soulmate stepped in. He picked up the stool and placed it in front of the chair. Too close. Tony straightened up some more. The man sat down and Tony was relieved to see that at least he was not glowing any more. But he was still beautiful. Stop that. Tony glared at the man.  
“I have a few questions for you Mr Stark. You will tell me all about your shipping lines.”  
Tony was silent. Anything he said would be taken down on the wrist of this man and held against him for all eternity. Tony shook his head.  
The man slapped him. Tony closed his eyes. It hadn’t even been a hard slap. But he had felt it in every atom. Tears sprung into his eyes and he screwed them shut.  
“I can do this all day. But may be you have something better to do than get beaten up over nothing,” the man said. There was anger in his voice. Then he took a deep breath and tried again. This time he tried to be conciliatory, “It’s just data. You give me your route and you get to go home.”  
Tony wanted to tell him that the good cop, bad cop routine needed two people to make it work. He bit his tongue. The wound reopened. The taste of fresh blood made him want to spit. So he did. A streak of blood and spit on his soulmate’s pretty face. The man had closed his eyes but he did not flinch or even make a move to wipe it from his face. God but he was beautiful. He opened his eyes and looked at Tony.  
“Let’s try this again. Shall we? I will ask questions and you will sit there. I will hit you and you will sit there. I will ask more questions and you will sit there. I will hit you some more and you will sit there. I have only two things to do. And so have you. When you choose door number two, which is to answer the question as opposed to just sitting there. Hey presto the door will open.”  
Open sesame, huh?  
Tony said nothing. He could satisfy his need to snark in the secrecy of his own brain. He was not giving the man his soulbond. At the thought his eyes went to the man’s wrist. He saw with a shock that the man had not covered it. He wondered if he could peek at the words and refrain from saying them. Would that even work?  
Tony’s chin was resting on his chest with the effort of getting the angle right when the man moved his hand and grabbed his chin. The touch though not gentle, was not very rough either. But Tony felt it. Oh he felt it at a subatomic level. Like his vision was whiting out with whatever the fuck glow the man carried within him. In a nanosecond of clarity he made out his words on the wrist in front of his eyes—like pencil marks, upside down in Tony’s blocky untidy handwriting.  
 _This can’t be happening_.  
He fainted again.

**

“Only you, Steve. The fuck did you do him? Rattle his brain with a slap?” Bucky was amused and curious.  
Steve walked past him without a word. Something was wrong with him. His arm was itching so much that he could hardly think straight. He looked down at the reddening skin where his nails had tried to alleviate the phantom itch. Just beneath the flushed skin he could make out pale marks. Like a scar that healed years ago. It might have been words, but it was too faint to make out before the blood retreated and his skin looked unmarked as ever.  
But the itch would not go away. Now that he thought about it, the itch was not in his wrist at all. It was under every inch of his skin—on his scalp, on his face, on his chest, under his fingertips. God he needed a bath. It was this cellar. It was old and musty. He suddenly remembered that he used to have allergies as a child. What if this place had triggered some latent allergies. He did not get ill any more, not after his rebirth in that cave. But who knows, perhaps it had settled on his skin. Yes, a shower would do the trick. That is what it was. That was all this was. He needed to get away from this cellar, the cold and Tony Stark with his bleeding face and furious eyes who made him feel small and scared. Like the lonely little lost boy buried in the snow, in a hole in the ground, that he thought he had left behind.  
“Steve?”  
Steve turned around and faced Clint.  
“What dya wanna do with the fucker?”  
“He won’t speak to me. Try Nat instead. Maybe seeing a new face will open his mouth,” Steve said.  
“He opened his mouth all right. Wash your face will you? Look like a creep from a horror show,” Clint said as he turned around and went away.  
Steve walked up to the window and saw his face reflected in the glass. Dried blood splattered over his cheek and forehead. Tony’s blood. He wanted to scratch his face off. But he calmly wet a rag with water from a bottle and wiped the violence off and waited to Tony to talk.  
But Tony Stark did not speak. Not to Nat. Not to Bucky and not to Clint. Not after the next beating. Nor the next one. Steve watched for a while but he did not speak to the man again. Tony did not curse or scream or even grunt. Steve felt weak and powerless and by the third day he had given up. When Bucky came with word that the Stark organization was offering rewards and hunting for news of their boss, Steve knew that time had run out. When Nat suggested injecting a psychotropic drug Steve had a private panic attack. He hid it well but in his mind he was back in the prison begging Dr Erskine, yes that had been the old man’s name. _Please, please, no more._  
“No. No more,” he said louder than he had intended. “This is not going to work. We won’t break him this way. We’ll have to think of something else. Nat what’s the exit strategy?”


	3. Chapter 3

The world was bright with sunlight and pain when the car dumped Tony Stark in the middle of a field and drove off. Some local thugs found him. He had stayed conscious long enough to give them his name. When he next woke it was in his own room, with Rhodey’s fingers stroking his hair. He recognized the familiar buzz of morphine and swallowed greedily at the ice chips that were held to his lips.   
“What’s happening?” Tony croaked.  
“You tell us, Tony. You were missing for three days. And you’ve been unconscious for hours. Where were you? Who took you? What did they want?” Pepper’s voice began rising and she caught sight of Tony’s wince.  
“I’m sorry. I was worried sick. I wish you’d stopped doing that Tony,” she sighed and dabbed at the corner of her eye. When she had gathered herself she turned to Tony again.  
“Is there anything we need to do right now?”  
“Lay low. No deliveries, no meetings. We are being watched,” Tony said.  
Pepper raised her eyebrows. Her expression settled into something stony.  
“Are we now? We’ll see about that.” She turned on her heel and left the room.  
“What’s the damage Rhodey?” Tony asked.  
“Dislocated shoulder. Concussion. One broken rib. Cracked cheekbone. Two lacerations. Nobody could accurately count all the blunt force trauma and what have you been doing—eating your tongue?” Rhodes began pacing.  
“I meant the business? Have we lost any shipments?” Tony tried shifting in bed to face Rhodes but the sudden burst of pain from his ribs put paid to that idea.  
Rhodes saw him moving and frowned. He stopped pacing and stood at the foot of the bed.  
“Only the last one. But you knew that before you disappeared. We found the driver. He managed to run before the pigs showed up. He is safe.”  
“What was the haulage again?”  
“Just regular grocery stuff. The medicine and the machine tools got in safely. Most of the food and clothing has already been shifted. We stopped when we realized you were missing. Since then everything has been sitting in warehouses 3, 7, 10, 15 and 17.”  
“It’s getting too spread out,” Tony sighed.   
“I know,” Rhodes sighed as he sat down on the bed and rested his hand on Tony’s foot, “It’s all too big and still not enough. The world is broken Tony, and we are running around with little band aids.”  
“Band-aids on bullet wounds,” they said at the same time. They laughed softly at the old shared memory and then silence fell again.  
“You ok?”  
“Hmm,” Tony said, “Will be. Need to think. Lots to think about.” He yawned.  
Rhodes patted his foot as he got up. “Rest now. Think later. We’ll be ready for them.”  
“Where’s the truck now? The one that was taken? Do you know?” Tony asked.  
Rhodes turned around surprised. “Probably at the precinct yard in the east district. Why?”  
“Unloaded yet?”  
“No idea. Want me to find out?”  
“Yes. But only if it can be done quietly. Gotta keep an eye on the runner too,” Tony said his eyelids already dropping closed.

**

Steve was standing on the rooftop watching the fog moving over the city. Nat dropped silently from a passing zeppelin. Sometimes he thought she had a personal bet to make him flinch. He knew he had one not to give her the pleasure.   
“What have you found?” he asked the skyline.  
Nat hummed at the skyline and directed her answer at Steve instead. “Something troubling. We may have got it wrong.”  
“Explain.” Steve turned to her.  
“The truck was unloaded the day it was captured. Only some grocery stuff.”  
“No guns?”  
“No guns. Precinct chief had first pick then the rest was shared between them like some sort of rank-based system. One poor rookie walked away with a can of beans.”  
“Nat.”  
“I was watching for a while and I thought it was strange that they didn’t take the truck. It’s still sitting there. Then I thought about haulage and found someone to do the math. The truck is bigger on the outside that it is on the inside.”  
“Hidden compartment.”  
“Hidden compartment,” she agreed. “Clint is watching right now to see who comes for it.”  
“I’m waiting for the part where we may have got it wrong.”  
“We are not the only ones watching. Someone else has been watching since we let Tony Stark go.”  
“You think it is his men? Why would they? Don’t they know who they are selling to?” Steve asked.  
“I know it is his man. As you say, wouldn’t they know who they were selling to? But what if they didn’t know?”  
“Someone is dealing in weapons without Stark’s knowledge.”  
“And he only found out when we asked him about it. And now he is trying to get answers too.”  
“We made a mistake didn’t we?”  
Nat hummed again. “I hope that is the only thing we made.”  
Steve said nothing. He only looked at her.  
“Darling, we may have also made one extremely invested enemy.”  
Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He only had to think about Tony Stark for the itch to return. He thought it must be guilt. Dealing with emotions had been difficult since his rebirth. Yes it must be guilt. He had watched a defenseless man getting beat up. Worse he had allowed it, okayed it. That was bad enough, now the man turns out to have been innocent of the whole weapons dealing?   
“Scrub everything. Let’s move base. The man traffics in information. The less he knows about us the safer we shall be. Get Bucky to go over everything and figure out what he knows about us.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tony Stark went over every word he had overheard in the cellar of doom. He had been cursed with a perfect memory. So each word he remembered came with a perfect recollection of the blow that accompanied it. After a few hours he looked up from his list. He knew some names. The group used a mix of codenames and petnames. The girl was Gnat. Which was a strange until he had heard someone referred to as Wasp. Their bearing was faux military… like they had made up their own rules. Like they thought they were some kind of pirates. They had kept their masks on most of the time but once when he had been unconscious, and the room too hot, the men had taken off their masks. They hadn’t notice him wake up. So he knew one of the men had dirty blonde hair and the other was a long-haired brunette. Blondie was the one who let names slip. So his list read Blondie, Gnat, Bux, Wasp (unseen), and his soulmate, the one they called Cap. Which was curious because he hadn’t worn one. 

But the team was not important. What was important was the information they let slip during the many many, oh too many, interrogations. When The Cap had first asked about shipping routes Tony had assumed it was because he wanted to use the routes himself. Then it dawned on him that they wanted to hit it, at which point he thought to reveal some of the old routes he no longer used but he remembered that even if he couldn’t see The Cap in the room, the man might be listening. Even if didn’t say “ _This can’t be happening_ ” what if the words changed? Did they change? Could they change? What if whatever he said that The Cap heard would become his new words? He knew too little about the whole soulmate bullcrap to take a risk for some misdirection that might get him free now, but might tie him to this man for the rest of his lifetime. 

Tony was smart. He could play the long game. And he was not going to bet without knowing exactly who held what cards. So he said nothing and took his medicine. By the end he felt their heart was not in it. Something about beating on a man who can’t fight back and won’t even give his captors the satisfaction of crying out in pain makes people feel like toads. Bullies like hearing the screams, don’t they? So he didn’t scream even when he thought he heard his rib crack. They heard it too. Tony thought they had begun to respect him then. The last few hours before they bundled him into the car he had heard them arguing outside his door. Neither of them wanted to watch him spitting up blood in answer to their questions. That was a pity. Their questions had begun revealing a lot about them. 

For instance Bux had let slip that they wanted to hit the shipment for weapons. He would have laughed then but the kidnappers, who called themselves Howlies? Howlers?, seemed to know a lot about some of his recent missing shipments. Tony realized something was not right in his little kingdom. 

Then Blondie had asked about militia groups and Tony was horrified that those bastards were the men the Howlers suspected he was selling weapons to. _No, no, no, no_. Did they not know that Hydra militia was responsible for his parents’ death. Did the whole world not know this? How could they even ask? And yet they were not stupid. Gnat had let nothing important slip the first time she questioned him. And then she had told him a story. It was very colourful. With detailed descriptions and illustrated with helpful diagrams that she had kindly brought with her. The theme was the same old, “here is where I will cut you, this is how slow it will go, this is how much it will hurt, if you don’t tell me what I want to know.” He’d been too dehydrated at the time, or he would have peed his pants. The way that woman had smiled. He shivered. He still didn't know what had kept her from fulfilling her promise to him. 

Pepper and Rhodey, when they came to visit later that day, looked a strange mix of angry and confused. “You look a strange mix of furious and curious… there should be a word for it. Fucurious. Or Cufurious? Yes, that’s better. That is how you look. What have you learned?” 

“You first,” said Pepper nodding to the list in front of him. 

Tony passed it to her and gave her a short precis of his nightmare experience. Leaving a careful blank around the soulmate debacle. 

“They may not be completely wrong.” Pepper sighed pushing her hair back and sitting down next to Tony. Last night some men dressed in Hydra militia gear drove into the precinct in a truck identical to the one we used and pulled a switcheroo. Happy is trailing the truck and will report when it gets where its going.” 

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. “Who’s doing this Pep? It feels like it has been going on for a long time. I had no idea, and you know how I hate not knowing.”

“I’m on it. Talk to you soon,” Pepper said and left.

Rhodes let the silence settle for exactly two minutes before he asked, “And what about the kidnappers. What are we doing about that?”

“Tell me all you know about The Cap and the Howlies.” 

“Zilch. That’s what I have right now. But by tomorrow,” said Rhodes as he stood up, “I’ll know things that will make them weep.”

“And I,” said Tony to the door as it swung shut, “should go say hello to Jarvis.” 

** 

The city library was a big, dull, dead sort of place. No one knew it existed. Of course people could see it was there. But so were a lot of tombs. Bombed by the militias in the last war, it still stood with a hole in the dome and a crater in the floor. But the books were still there and so was the librarian. They had just moved underground. 

Tony liked that sentiment. He lived by it. The world may burn above him, but he could be the weed that survived underground waiting for his chance. And Jarvis, the librarian had been a close personal friend of his father and a mentor to him. Now Jarvis ran the underground information highway, keeping tabs on everything that happened that they didn’t tell you about and everything that didn’t happen even though they told you it did. Tony was one of Jarvis’s biggest sources. And Jarvis was one of Tony’s real friends.

“Heya J. What’s news these days?”

Jarvis told him some of the latest gossip about Hammer's work with Shield. 

“And what’s the truth these days?”

“Rare,” Jarvis smiled. “Something happened?”

“What gave it away?” Tony smiled waving a hand at the bandage around his head and the arm in a sling.

“That I heard about. I already sent word to Rhodes with a few leads on the Howling Commandos.”

Tony noted the name with a nod. 

“But that’s not what you came to talk to me about.”

“Don’t read too much into it, but I need some data on the whole soulmate shenanigan.” 

Jarvis kept his eyes carefully away from the cuff on Tony’s wrist and Tony was grateful.

“I am no sort of expert but I could point you in the direction of one. There was this doctor. He was researching the subject but he gave it up because of lack of enough data points. He moved his specialization to something that it is a little off the beaten path.”

“How off?” Tony asked. 

Jarvis sighed “Magic.” 

Tony laughed out loud then stopped grabbing his chest and taking some deep breaths. Bugger these broken ribs. “That is off off way off mainstream, you might say. Jarvis are you sending me to a kook? Will he talk to me? Where can I find him?”

Jarvis told him.

When Tony returned home late that night he lay down in bed to collate all the data he had failed to collect. Dr Stephen Strange was right. There was precious little data to make any conclusive statement on the whole soulmate question.

There had only been seven thousand odd total cases in all of recorded history. And of those, the ones who had been scientifically proved was a pitiful number—just a few hundred. 

Dr Strange had been so dismissive that he had handed Tony three books and told him they contained all the lies and truths ever told about the subject, adding that if he could tell one from the other, good on him. Two of those had been written by Dr Strange himself. Tony could understand the man going into magic. Somehow it felt more real. 

The only story he thought applied to him was a legend of some nun in the old country who taken a vow of silence and during that period met a traveler who said her words. She kept her vow and didn’t break her silence. The man left and she stayed a nun. There was no data on the quality of life led by either individual.

Glowing just before the words are spoken turned out to be a thing. There were at least 83 comments on the subject. But given that it was an unobservable occurrence—it was not captured on film or even noticed by any witnesses present—the scientific community had disregarded it as fairytale, preconceived notions or retroactive memories, depending on who was conducting the research.

But there was never a case of someone knowing their soulmate, hearing their own words, and not speaking the words that completed the bond. The deaf boy had lipread the words, and signed back. Voila bond complete irrespective of said soulmate’s lack of ASL fluency. That was some solid bull crap. Dr Strange had put three questionmarks next to that anecdote. Tony put three more. 

The research about healthy bonds was all rainbows and butterflies kind of perfection that made Tony want to barf. Emotions that traveled via the bond. Experiences and feelings that echoed between soulmates. It sounded like a fun experiment. Since his bond was partial would it mean that he could feel what The Cap felt? Sense him somehow? Use it to catch him? He remembered the flood of pain that come when the bond had formed and felt a twinge of regret. The bloke had had a tough life. Even with his perfect recall Tony could not make out individual memories just the sensation of loss and pain. Tony bit his lip and wondered if he really wanted to open himself to more of that.

Then Tony read about all the sudden deaths. The heart failures that coincided with the death of a soulmate and he felt cold inside. Perhaps some threads should stay un-yanked. 

But the stories were fascinating. Especially the ones about near misses. The one study in which a three hundred odd participants with pencil gray words turned up to see if they could find their soulmate. The experiment had been conducted for five years before it finally happened for one couple. Tony couldn’t help but think of all the could-be couples who had perhaps turned up a year apart. Then there were handwriting experts who pretended they could tell you where and when to find your soulmate. There was a TV show where people would send in the words on their wrist and a pretty young woman read them out on camera. That never produced a result either. Perhaps you had to be there. 

There was one case of words that disappeared after severe trauma that Tony found fascinating. But that kid never found his soulmate, so that was another joke without a punchline. 

He took off the cuff and looked at the black inked cursive writing again, neat and sure and oh so promising— _Let’s do it then_. Let’s beat the man unconscious. He wondered if it would feel any different if he ran a thumb over it. He wondered if he would feel anything. He wondered if he would feel anything. Only 0.03 per cent of the population was born with a mark. And most them went on to live and die with the knowledge that there was someone out there for them. Precious few ever found their soulmates. Nobody had ever tried to deny one. So what did that make him? Perhaps the punchline.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve woke up with a jerk. There was someone in his head. The damned itch was back. His heart was racing and he wanted to throw up. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to sleep and never wake up. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He was going mad. He breathed deeply until the panic settled back and examined the dream he’d had. He’d seen his mother’s face. He remembered what she looked like. And she had been dead. Laid out and waiting for the pall bearers. He had found and lost her again in the same moment. Steve decided that this was the universe judging him for his bad choices. He had wronged a good man.

Bucky had brought him more and more information about all Tony Stark did for the community. The soup kitchens, the free clinics and his legitimate businesses that almost single-handedly propped up the economy of three different districts. Why had they not done this research before, he had yelled.

“We’ve never seen a good man before. They are this rare breed Steve. We’ve all heard about them, we just never expect to meet them,” Bucky had answered without a smile. Clint later told him that Tony Stark had been seen out and about and seemed to be recovering well. Oh God that did not make him feel any better. He remembered the bruised face, angry and spitting blood. He closed his eyes and groaned.

He got out of bed and went to the communal area to get a drink of water. Nat wasn’t there. But Clint was.

“Nat around?”

“Truck watch. She’ll be back in a bit. Bucky has just gone to relieve her.”

But it was Bucky who came back.

“Nat wasn’t there. Found a note saying the truck was switched last night and she was following.”

“Last night?”

“Hmm. You know Nat. She’ll be back in her own time.”

Steve looked from Bucky to Clint. They both looked afraid. Nat disappeared all the time, they were used to it.

So why was his stomach in the same general area as his feet?

**

Tony was trying to make sense of the jumbled dream he had just woken up from. It had been a funeral for his mother. But the pinched little face in the casket was not Mom. Besides he remembered being bigger, and there had been two caskets and a lot more people. And why the fuck was he feeling happy and sad. The answer came before he finished asking the question. The Cap. Fucking lunatic. Happy at his mother’s funeral? Little psycho thug.

“I have good news and good news and a little bad news, and some really bad news.”

Pepper walked into the room without a knock and Tony straightened up from his desk trying to look like he hadn’t fallen asleep there.

“Let’s start with the slightly bad, then do the good, then the really bad and garnish it with some really really good.”

Pepper frowned, “I said nothing about really really good.”

“Gimme, gimme.”

“Bad. The truck spotted the tail and tried to shoot Happy down. Good. He’s ok because someone was following him and returned fire. Bad, the chick caught a bullet. Good, Happy managed to get a tracker on the truck before it fled. It is live right now and we have a bleeder in the hospice wing, which I’m sorry to say is ending on a low note. I forgot that one.”

“Who is she?”

“She won’t say.”

Tony went down to the hospice wing with Pepper following him and telling him to slow down and not jar his ribs. Tony opened the door to see the Gnat trying to put on a jacket and the nurse lying on the floor.

“Code 3. Lockdown,” Pepper said into her hand held radio and pulled out her mace.

The Gnat looked from the mace in Pepper’s hand to the door that was now firmly closed and gingerly replaced the jacket.

“Pepper meet Gnat. One of the inhospitable folk who worked me over earlier this week.”

Pepper corrected her aim to reach the woman’s face more accurately and her arm followed the trajectory of Gnat’s movement to the chair. Happy was the first person to come in through the door. He rushed to check on the nurse.

“She’s all right. She’s ok.”

He lifted her on to a free gurney and then pulled out a stun gun and pointed it at the Gnat.

“What’s up boss?” he asked.

“Gnat is about to tell us.”

“So you can talk. I was starting to wonder if we had broken your jaw,” she smiled.

“Keep talking honey, I can turn the dial from stun to a fucking painful shock,” said Happy.

She raised a shapely eyebrow at him, “Why not, after all I only took a bullet for you. Not like you owe me anything.”

“Why were you tailing Happy?” Pepper asked.

“I wasn’t happy tailing. Why, did he see me smile? I wanted to see where the truck went. This guy was just in the way.”

“Why? What’s in the truck?”

Nat looked thoughtful. Tony decided to throw her a bone.

“I think we are both looking for the same thing. What is in my truck, how is it getting there and who is it going to? Perhaps you can help with two out of three questions. Though I must say you have been operating on the fallacy that the answer to Question No 2 is Tony Stark. Given a 33% failure rate I’m not even sure if we can trust your handle on the other answers.” _There—cards on the table, challenge, contempt, … all in one go. Come on fishy… bite, bite, bite._ “Guns for Hydra militia.” Gnat drawled with a smile that said she saw what he was doing and she could do one better. _Bite! Oh shit._


	6. Chapter 6

In the privacy of his office Tony rubbed his face for what felt like the 100th time that day. “Fucking Hydra. How bad is her wound?” he asked Pepper as she followed him into his sanctum.  
She looked at him curiously, “It’s a graze. Not too deep. Needed stitches. She’ll survive. She’ll keep the scar. Refused painkillers. That woman is hard. What’s the matter Tony? Are you going soft on her?”  
Tony scowled at her. “Keep her under guard. And call Rhodey. I have to tell you guys something.”  
Pepper knew his ‘don’t argue with me’ voice. He didn’t often employ it, but when he did there was no response necessary. She marched out. She was back in 15 minutes, Rhodey in tow.  
Tony said nothing. He simply took off his cuff and showed it to them. They saw the inky black _Let’s do it then_ and Pepper reacted with a shrill cheer of oh-my-god-I-am-so-happy-for-you, hand holding and on-the-spot-jumping.  
Tony winced. “Read the room, Pep. I got it during the kidnapping. The heartless bastard who took me did this.”  
Their mouths fell open. “Are you telling me, they kept you for three days, beating the shit out of you and starving you, after they found out that you were their soulmate?” Rhodey was thrumming with anger.  
“Not exactly.”  
“Spill it Tony,” Pepper grumbled, her excitement gone.  
“This was the call to commence the very first series of love taps. I was gagged at the time… so I couldn’t say anything. Point is, nobody knows,” Tony said.  
“So when that woman was surprised that you could talk it was because you literally said nothing for three days,” Pepper sounded equal parts impressed and aghast. There should be a word for that.  
“You sound fascinated and shocked. You sound fascinocked. Shocksinated?”  
“Oh Tony,” Pepper said as Rhodey started cursing under his breath.  
They looked at each other and shook their heads.  
“All right whatever stupid plan you have to ruin your life in some new flamboyant and batshit crazy way, lead on. We will follow, support and love you through it all,” Pepper said.  
“What she said. But I also reserve the right to laugh in your face and say I-told-you-so when it all goes to hell in a handbasket and you sit there in the ruins of your… Right love and support,” said Rhodey.  
“It is too much to ask for silent adoration and loyalty?” Tony asked.  
“Nope love and support. That’s all you are getting buddy. With a healthy dose of calling-out-on-bullshit thrown in free of charge. Take it or leave it. Final offer,” Rhodes smiled.  
“Man I lucked out on henchmen,” Tony griped.  
“Watch who you call a henchman,” Pepper griped back. “Seriously. What is your plan?”  
“I am not going to say the words. In fact just to be on the safe side. I am not going to say any words near them. You will have to be my voice to the gang. Say I have been traumatized by the incident and am not likely to get over my paranoia. Too hysterical for a face-to-face or something,” Tony said.  
“That would have worked better if you hadn’t just faced down the female ninja out there,” Pepper said.  
“What female ninja?” Rhodey asked.  
Pepper looked at Rhodey like he had grown a new head. “Where have you been? The whole compound is under lockdown. Happy was attacked..”  
“Happy was attacked?”  
“Shut up. I’ll tell you later,” Pepper said to him and then turned to Tony. “Fine let’s see how long that will work for. So he doesn’t wear a cuff then? You saw his words?”  
Tony shook his head no and then nodded his head yes.  
“Care to share?” she smiled.  
_This can’t be happening._  
“No. It is something trite, common and so not something I would ever say,” Tony said replacing his cuff.  
“Then what are you worried about?”  
“What if it changes? What if whatever my first words are become his new words? Crap, no one knows how this bamboozle works, Pep. There is no real info out there. Trust me I checked. Fantasy clap trap, by the boat loads, but actual real info, nuh-uh. None. Can’t risk it. Avoidance is the best policy,” Tony sat down heavily on the chair and closed his eyes.  
Pepper and Rhodey exchanged glances.  
“I can feel you exchanging glances like I were some lost puppy or something equally pathetic. Stop it. Where are we on the menace within? Who is undermining us?” Tony asked.  
Pepper jumped to action. “I have put someone on the police clerk who oversaw the truck switch. And I’m going through all the trucks that were lost in the last six months. There is a pattern Tony. Almost every single captured truck, no matter where and whose jurisdiction it was caught under, ended up at the same precinct yard. I have a feeling this goes further back. I am pulling more records but I don’t expect to find anything new other than when it began,” she reported.  
“Leave that for now. When is not as important as who. Any clues on that?” Tony asked.  
Pepper shook her head. “That’s where I can’t see any pattern. The goods are different, the routes are different, the source is different, destination is different… I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything,” she promised.  
Tony nodded. “Check stops made on route. Specially unscheduled ones. I have a plan, but I think we might need help from these Howler Monkeys. What do we know about them?”  
“A lot,” sighed Rhodes, “and very little. We know what they do, how they do it and quite a lot about what they are as a group. But individual histories are sketchy at best. The leader calls himself their captain, his second is this guy called Barnes and they have another joker, I mean that literally, the clown ran away from the circus—he’s called Clint Barton. There is a Russian assassin, I kid you not, called Romanov and there are a few dishonourable discharges in the mix—a kid called Sam Wilson and another called Thor Odinson. They have a few undercovers as well—someone they call Wasp, and another they call Witch. Nobody knows anything about them. They are vigilantes Tony. They attack and destroy militia HQs. They have been operating under a year. Mostly low profile and quick hits. But they’ve been getting bolder. They took major casualties in a raid against Hydra militia last month.”  
Tony nodded. “We’ve met the Russian. They call her Gnat,” said Tony. “No doubt because she is tiny and yet thoroughly irritating.”  
Rhodes looked confused. “Yes Natasha Romanov. So she is not,” he looked meaningly at the cuff.  
“The captain,” Tony sighed with his eyes closed, “And stop wagging your eyebrows at each other. I can sense it. It is all very disrespectful to your Boss and Keeper.”  
“You’re not the boss of me,” said Rhodes as he left the room.  
“And you can neither keep me, nor keep up with me so shut up,” said Pepper and added, “I don’t want to bring this up right now, but Stane wants to know when we can give him the new route. Shall I bring him into the loop on this mole thing?”  
Tony rubbed his face again. “Let’s just keep it between the three of us for now. We’ll bring him into it when we have a name.”  
Tony stood up. “Right. Let’s go chat up a Russian assassin. Again.”

**

When Nat finally walked back into the base all three men jumped. “I am ok. Got hit. Walked it off,” she smiled.  
Steve let out a long breath. He hadn’t slept since the night they had dragged Tony Stark into the cellar. That one misstep was costing him more in peace of mind than when he lost four men in the last raid. He wondered what that said about him as a leader.  
There was no point rushing Nat. She’d speak when she was ready. She took Bucky’s beer from his hand and finished it for him. Then she settled down and told a story. Nat was good with stories. Very descriptive. She even brought a map to illustrate the route. How the truck went out of the precinct, how Tony Stark’s man followed at a discreet distance, but then became over confident and got spotted. How the shooting began and how Nat jumped in. Got shot, lost the truck and then got herself captured.  
She smiled. “I saw the man put a tracker into the truck. I thought if I could get into the car with them, I’d be able to get the locator beacon and we could track it.”  
“Did you get it?”  
She hummed. “Hmm. No, I did one better. I got you a friend.”  
There had been no opportunity to retrieve the beacon and by the time they were in the compound Nat had lost a lot of blood and decided it was best to get the medical attention they were offering. “I saw Tony Stark again.”  
_How did he look?_ Steve didn’t ask.  
“He looked better. Arm is in a sling, walks a little stiff. But getting prettier each time I look. You guys really went for the face didn’t you?” This last she said to Bucky and Clint. They didn’t say anything.  
“And boy can the man talk.” Nat looked at Steve when she said that.  
“He spoke to you.” Steve said quietly. The itch was beginning to crawl beneath his ribcage now. “What did he say?”  
“He has a proposition for us. He says, and these are his words, ‘thanks for letting me know about the rot in my operation. But it is my problem and I am dealing with it and I will appreciate if in the meanwhile and forever more our paths do not cross again.’ The man said it with a straight face. I laughed so hard I almost pulled a stitch. I told him he could run his little empire from a guarded compound as he pleased, but the world outside was not his bitch.”  
“And he replied?”  
“Oh he seemed to expect that. He said he was putting something in motion, and he asked how he could get in touch with me.”  
_Just you?_ Steve didn’t ask.  
“I told him I knew where he lived. And I would come by soon,” Nat smiled reaching for Clint’s beer. He let her have it.  
“And how did he take that threat?” Steve asked.  
Nat shrugged. “Gave me the password to use at the south gate after 7pm.”  
Steve didn’t say anything.  
“It’s _Iron Man_ ,” Nat smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

“Iron Man,” Steve said to the gate guard. The man looked him over and led him through the maze of the compound and left him in a windowless room with a few chairs and a single table. Steve opted to remain standing. There was nothing to look at in the room so he stared into the tiny camera and tried not to look intimidating. He wondered if that would work. Perhaps he should smile? He did not think that would work. Perhaps he should practice these strange expressions before he tried it on the unsuspecting public.  
The door opened behind him and Steve turned. He tried not to look disappointed when he saw his hosts. Steve recognized them as Stark’s lieutenants—Pepper Potts and James Rhodes. Silence beat around them for a few minutes before Steve remembered that he would have to be the one to set the ball rolling. Introductions, yes that was what normal people did when they met for the first time.  
“Hello,” he parroted one of Bucky’s old lessons. “My name is Steve Rogers. I am the Captain of the Howling Commandos.”  
Potts and Rhodes exchanged looks. Some sort of conversation happened over there. Then Potts turned to him and said, “What can we do for you, Captain?”  
“I need.. I wanted to thank you for taking care of Romanov…” Steve said and then paused awkwardly.  
Potts took pity on him. She smiled, “It was the least we could after she saved one of us. Think nothing of it.”  
“She said something about a plan… I’m not sure what your goals are here…,” Steve finished. He sounded lame, he knew that. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come alone. He didn't usually get so tongue-tied.  
“Since you have come all this way, perhaps you can tell us what you expect from us?” Rhodes asked.  
Steve smirked. It was the bitter ugly curve that his lips were used to. “I’ve learned it’s best not to have any expectations. All the same I’d like to know what to prepare for,” he breathed deeply. This was strategy, he could do this. “What are you planning, what kind of fall out do you expect, what kind of back up plan you have and what role did you see us playing…I have a lot of questions for…” and there it was again. Every time he came to Stark, the hesitation was back. Along with the damned itch. Could you feel an itch on your diaphragm?  
Again those exchanged glances. “As Mr Stark told Ms Romanov, we will let you know as soon as we can,” said Potts.  
“Look here Rogers,” Rhodes said. “Cards on the table. We are not taking on the Hydra Militia. They are too big and we are a rather more visible target than your little vigilante group. We can’t afford an all-out war. That said, we are not going to all this whole weapons business and mole in the organization to go without challenge. We don’t like being played. We don’t like being made fools of. So yes, we will do something about it. Other than that, we are not looking to paint a target on ourselves.”  
Rhodes crossed his arms.  
“That is not how things will go for you,” Steve pointed out. “One does not simply hit Hydra and walk away. You know their motto—cut off one head, two more grow to replace it. They will retaliate. Whether you want it or not, the war is at your door. Your mole brought it to you. You would be wise to make sure the hit, when it comes is big enough that they don’t walk, or even crawl away from it. Because if they do, you will be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. I am not trying to scare you… It is just what they do.” Steve became quiet with the thought of Hydra’s eye on Tony Stark.  
“Do you think, we don’t know that? Tony knows… we have all lost something or other to the Militias—AIM, Doom, Ten Rings, and Hydra is the biggest monster out there. We have to pick our battles carefully. We will cut off Hydra’s arms supply, but I don’t think we can go any further than that,” Potts broke in.  
“Hydra will not let Stark walk away from it. They will not simply watch a lucrative supply chain break without retaliating. Is that what Stark thinks? He can get rid of the mole, break the chain and that will be all?” Steve was getting irritated now.  
“So what do you suggest? What is it you want of us?” Potts asked.  
“We ask because we are curious,” said Rhodes, “Not because you have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting what you want from us,” said Rhodes, “Not after what you pulled with Tony,” he added, then winced as if the words just slipped out.  
“I’d like to see him,” Steve said quietly, “I would like to apologize…to Tony..”  
“I don’t think that is a good idea. He is a busy man and he is still recovering…” Potts began, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. Tony Stark walked in.

**

Tony was furious with himself.  
He had been watching the Captain, Rogers… Steve… on the monitor. The man was staring into Tony’s soul right through the camera and Tony was finding it difficult to breathe. Something heavy began pooling in his gut and filling him up with an uncomfortable, alien feeling. He couldn’t breathe quite right.  
He heard Steve talk over the monitors and the heaviness in his gut began to seep into his bones. He felt frighteningly sober and utterly drunk at the same time. His senses were tingling like he was over-caffeinated. He started drumming his fingers against his thigh watching Steve, looking for faults and falsehoods. And getting angry when he could find none. The man was making sense. He was standing there, looking beautiful and confident and intelligent, and even when he tripped over his tongue he was adorable. The asshole.  
And then Tony heard him say his name and he was out of the monitor room, racing towards to the interview room. The door slammed open in front of him and three faces looked up in surprise. That was the moment his jarred ribs chose to make their presence felt.  
_What was he doing here?_  
Pepper’s expression asked the same question. Rhodey was looking amused. And Steve… What was that expression on his face? Tony decided it was not surprise or pity or sadness. Was that longing? _Oh grow up. No point projecting_ , Tony told himself. _Wait, what?_  
Tony moved stiffly to the other side of the table and sat down slowly, deliberately. He did not want to look weak, but boy had that jog done a number on his bruised body. What had he been thinking? He glared at the cuff. He hadn’t been thinking. Stupid half-formed soulbond. He glared at Steve. Stupid soulmate.  
Then he waved a hand at Steve, as if to say, ‘go on.’  
Rhodey, his dear friend, took pity on him. “Well, here is Mr Stark. I think he cleared his schedule to hear that apology. Go ahead Captain, he is all yours.”  
Tony changed his mind. Rhodey was just mean.  
Steve looked at him with a strangely blank expression. His mouth twisted into a shape that might have been a smile, or a grimace. Tony could not decide. A _smimace? Grimile?_ But he couldn’t look away either. So he scowled and tried to hold on to his anger and push down on the memories that had flooded into him when his soulmark had realized. There was a reason the man looked so… haunted. Tony shuddered and felt the anger against Steve slipping away. So he did the next best thing. He became furious with himself.  
“I am sorry,” Steve said looking straight at Tony. “I did you wrong. I made a bad call, and a bad decision based off bad intel. But more than that it was bad form.” His eyes dropped to Tony’s bandages and something about his expression felt like he was trying to do penance. Like he was counting and cataloging the injuries to think about and punish himself at leisure. The fucking masochist.  
But the man was not done. He held himself straight and took a deep breath. “I am not asking for forgiveness. I don’t really deserve it. It was a really shitty thing to do so… beat up an innocent and defenseless man. However, I am really sorry and will do my best to… make amends? If you could… I am sorry, Mr Stark.”  
And then he nodded to Pepper and left.  
“Well, you kept your end of the bargain. You didn’t say anything,” said Pepper into the silence that Steve left behind.  
“So is that how it is going to be? You are going to come rushing in and stand there glaring quietly? You want to work these people, don’t you? What exactly is the plan here?” Rhodey asked.  
_Fuck if I know_ , Tony didn’t say.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony Stark did not speak. Not to Steve. Not with words. The Commandos had met up in secret with the three members of the Stark Company as many as five times in the past few months. And Steve had yet to hear a peep out of the man. Steve wondered why he still went to those planning sessions. Bucky could easily stand in for him. But he couldn’t stay away. Tony’s glares had become a rare beam of sunshine in the bleakness he called his life.  
Steve couldn’t grudge a man his anger. Some things were hard to forgive, some things didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Steve was ok with that. But he looked to see that the wounds, at least, were healing well. The bandage around his head was gone. The bruise on his cheek was almost faded. He still wore his arm in a sling but he was regaining mobility in the arm. Tony Stark was the kind of man who talked with his hands.  
Steve had watched and listened to Tony talk without words. Tony would march into the room like he was ready for battle. At first Steve thought it was PTSD, but that wasn’t what it felt like. Tony looked like he had put on anger like an armour—assembled it around him in cold methodical precision. It felt practiced, and Steve should know about practiced emotions—after all he was a master on the subject.  
So he watched Tony and once he had caught the man stealing a glance and looking away quickly frowning at the table. He had been a little surprised but in that moment he saw Tony think as clearly as if he were saying his thoughts aloud. He saw Tony embarrassed at having been caught looking—a touch of pink near the cheekbones and ears. He saw Tony get angry at his own reactions—a deepening of the frown and clenching of fists. He saw a decision being made—the straightening of the shoulders and a little nod. And then he saw the anger being put on like a face plate clicking into place—the scowl and the glare. It was turned on Steve like a noon day sun. Where others would have wilted, Steve basked. Since that day Tony would spend their planning meetings staring him down. Steve went to watch Tony glare.  
And he went to watch Tony fidget. Holding his tongue, for whatever reason, was probably not the easiest thing for him. As Nat, Potts, Rhodes, Clint and Bucky spoke, Tony’s fingers twitched. Steve had learned the difference between the twitches that accompanied agreement, to the ones that came when Tony had a better idea. He had watched the time when Tony jumped to his feet and ran out of the room, returning with a sheet of paper he handed to Potts. Potts shook her head at the man and then made a neat tweak to the plan. After that incident, Tony had kept paper close at hand. And regularly passed notes in class.  
Bucky and Clint had noticed this behaviour too, and it irritated them. Nat and Rhodes seemed amused by it. Potts just looked sad. He’d caught her looking at him with the same sadness. Firemen probably looked at kitten trapped in trees with the same expression.  
But it would be over soon. One way or another, the meetings would come to an end. And he would no longer get to watch Tony glare.  
Steve smiled at the thought. But he had made some comfortable, almost happy memories. Something to dream about without any screaming. Even if they had been tainted with blood and violence at the beginning, Tony had given him that one blessing. He had never screamed. What a thing to be grateful for.

**

The plan had been coming together. Slowly, but surely it was all falling into place. Tony sat at the top of the water tower in the compound and looked down at the activity below him. Sitting in the shadows, hidden from all eyes, this was his favourite place to think. He watched his men loading and unloading various trucks. The compound buzzed with activity after the long lull of forced inaction. But now the mole hunt was on. One of these men was probably a traitor.  
Steve’s Howler monkeys were doing most the surveillance work. That was the only way to keep it a secret from his own organization. It did not sit well with Tony. He felt disloyal, suspecting his men. It was a strange reaction—this sense of failure, rather than fury over the betrayal. He found himself wondering if he should have seen it coming? Done something to prevent it? Been a better employer, the kind who nobody wants to betray? He rubbed a hand across his face. He was tired.  
He tried to dry run his plan in his head. Step one had been to get the new route in place. Step 1 B had been to get the new secret route in place. The one that was known only to Tony, Pep and Rhodey. Tony had made a big show of succumbing to Stane’s pressure and reopening the smuggling lines. The first few shipments had begun slipping through under the secret watchful gaze of their new friends.  
Pep’s painstaking file combing had thrown up some interesting facts. Every so often a truck would take a little detour, off the record and off the files and make a little pit stop at a remote gas station before entering the country. The clue had been in the disproportionate mileage that the trucks seemed to register. Sometimes too high, sometimes too low. Now that Tony knew they were switching the entire trucks out, he was surprised they were even taking care of little details like the odometer readings. Their mole was smart. And meticulous. Tony did not like that combination.  
Tony had come up with sectors for his drivers. So each vehicle changed hands as soon as a driver left his sector. Once they knew where the problem was it was not difficult to find the rogue driver. There were two of them—Sitwell and Rumlow. But they had to be working for someone else, someone who chose which truck to switch.  
Tony could wait for the mole to choose the truck, or he could make one truck an irresistible target. Option A would have meant endless waiting and the team being spread too thin. Option B, was like hunting with bait. Steve had suggested and fine-tuned that plan.  
The truck that was coming closest to the Hydra gas station would ostensibly also carry an adamantium artifact dug up by some scavenger. Tony had been spoofing a lengthy correspondence haggling over the purchase. It worried Tony to think that though he had no proof the mole was in his correspondence, he was taking it for granted that it was so. This feeling of being watched and going about life as if everything was ok, was not ok.  
If all went according to plan, by this time next week it would all be over. Or he would have started a war he had no hope of winning. Tony rubbed his face again. It was cold up here. His face was going numb. He looked at his wrist and removed his cuff. It was too dark to see the words, but he knew they were there. He had got into the habit of rubbing a finger over the skin. It calmed him somehow. Placebo effect, he told himself.  
As so often happened these days, Tony found himself pondering the problem called Steve. If he was not thinking about him, he was dreaming about the man. Sifting through a weird mish-mash of memories. Tony found he could skip the screaming ones and dwell in the rare pleasant ones. It gave him a strange sort of connection to his soulmate.  
And the man was strange. He was a study in contrasts. Someone who looked inhumanly strong and confident, and yet so lost and sad. Someone who looked older than his years and yet young and soft. Beautiful and broken. _The world if full of broken men, Tony. It ain’t your job to fix ‘em._ Maybe if he told himself this five times everyday—once with every meal, and on getting up and on going to bed—he might even come to believe it.  
“Hey Tony. Thought I’d find you here,” Pepper said as she sat down beside him and swung her legs over the edge of the water tank.  
“You taking lessons from the little Russian assassin, Pep? I didn’t hear you come. You could’ve startled me into jumping right off and doing a face plop on that truck down there,” Tony said.  
“Hmm,” Pep hummed, “I like Natasha. We talk.”  
Tony shut up and waited. He knew that expression. She had something to say but hadn’t made up her mind yet. They watched the sky and looked for the absent stars. “There is a universe out there somewhere,” Pepper said softly swinging her legs gently.  
“Not for us, Pep. Not for us,” Tony said and reached out to put an arm around her shoulder.  
“I saw Steve’s wrist today,” Pepper sighed, “I mean, I paid attention to it. Tony, his wrist was bare. He has no mark.”  
The desolation that Tony felt at that moment certainly startled him enough to do the promised face plop.


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky set a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread in front of Steve. “Nightmares again?” he asked lifting a hand to Steve’s face but thinking better of it and pulling away to sit on the floor next to him.  
“I don’t think they are nightmares. Or dreams. I think they are memories. Some of them make no sense, but they all feel so familiar. Bucky, I remember what Ma smelled like. I think it’s called jasmine. I remembered a song she used to sing. I remembered what my bed felt like and colour of her eyes. My god, Bucky I remembered what it felt like to be loved,” Steve let his head drop back to thump against the wall. “These last couple of months I feel like something has reached inside me and started something. It’s like I hadn’t lost my memories but only bricked it all up. I am standing on this side of a dam, Buck. Now there is a crack and I can hear the weight of water beating against the dam. I am afraid when it breaks….”  
_It will sweep me away. There will be nothing left_ , he didn’t say.  
Bucky had never heard Steve talk so much. He didn’t know what to do with it. Steve’s voice was steady and resigned. Like he knew something was wrong, but he was ok with it. And that was not the Captain of the Howling Commandos that he knew. Steve thrummed with a quiet rage against the world. A controlled explosion. Steve’s quiet acceptance worried him more than the idea of the coming battle.  
“I don’t know what to say Steve,” Bucky was honest that way. Steve smiled, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Clint left ok?”  
“Yeah he took that Stark device. I just hope it don’t blow up in his pant pocket.”  
Steve laughed. That was new too. Steve never really laughed.  
“I still can’t believe the size of that thing. I mean, it’s so tiny and it packs such a wallop. This Stark guy is something else. Imagine if he made weapons for us?”  
Steve shook his head. “He is a maker. Have you seen his hands? I think he should only make good things. If I could have it my way, he’d never have to…” Steve sighed. That road through dreamland never led anywhere.  
Bucky felt he finally understood what was going on with his friend. The pauper had fallen for the prince. A fairytale that had tragedy stamped all over it. He cleared his throat and said, “Clint will be at the gas station with Jan by tomorrow evening. Depending upon how soon they load the truck and get it moving, it will be in the precinct three to five days. Jan’s team will stay there and get more intel on the truck stop and Clint will follow the truck till the cops bust it.”  
That gave them as much time as they could possibly need.  
Steve turned to Bucky and gave him a bright smile. Bucky looked at him like a deer in headlights. “What?” he asked.  
“I remember what Ma smelled like. This memory feels like a gift. I am happy right now. I remember what that felt like,” Steve said with a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. He absent-mindedly rubbed his wrist.

**

Tony brought the cup of tea to his lips and took a dainty sip. He sighed with contentment.  
“Thanks Jarvis, I really needed this,” Tony said.  
“Glad to be of service Mr Stark. May I say that you are looking very well today,” Jarvis said as he settled down in his own chair and began to pour for himself.  
Tony looked around at the room. It must have been luxurious once. The room, though it wasn’t over large, would have fit well in a post-Renaissance palace. The gilded art, the ornate furniture, the decor, the air of genteel decay, even the fine china he held delicately between his fingers were all remnants of an age of rich comfort. It was old now, a little frayed around the edges, but clean and well looked after. The room was loved. And Tony always felt a sense of calm sitting here, sipping tea, and listening to Jarvis talk of some obscure but interesting piece of art or history.  
“Thanks Jarvis. You know there are only a few aches and pains… I am almost completely recovered. That Dr Banner is quite the genius you know. Where did you find the man?” Tony asked.  
Jarvis frowned, “While I am glad it worked out this time, might I suggest that you go carefully with the good doctor. He is not all he seems. In fact, better to keep a distance and avoid him if at all possible.”  
Tony studied Jarvis, “I must say I am surprised. I thought he had your full confidence.”  
“With regard to his capabilities, well yes, he does. But there is more to a man than his talent and intelligence. Let’s just say he is notoriously bad tempered,” Jarvis said. Tony knew there was more to that story, but he also knew he was not getting any more on the subject. Besides, that was not the reason he was here.  
“I have need of your services, Jarvis.”  
Jarvis put down his cup and listened attentively as Tony outlined his concerns and his request.  
“I had heard rumours about Hydra Militia smuggling weapons into the country, but I had no idea they were using your organization. I am sorry to hear about your, hmm staffing problems,” Jarvis said. Tony smiled. He could hear the italics there.  
Jarvis was thinking about Tony’s proposal. It wouldn’t do rush him. Tony sipped from his own cup and looked at the painting over the mantle piece. An angel with a sword pointed at the head of a vanquished demon. Dressed in blue armour and swirling red cape, rust blonde hair lifted gently by the wind. Reni had made the figure glow. Tony’s breath hitched at the sadness in the angel’s expression. He marveled at the kindness in the face even as the blade was poised for the fatal blow. _Is that how God felt when He destroyed the earth?_  
Philosophy. Bah humbug.  
But Tony was thinking of someone rather more mortal when he looked at the downcast eyes and the sad mouth.  
“Yes, I think it can be done. It will take no more than a day. But you must act quickly. The longer the rumour is out there, the more time Hydra will have to corroborate it,” Jarvis said.  
Tony nodded, “Get it ready and wait for my signal.”  
His eyes were drawn back to the painting.  
Jarvis cleared his throat, “If I may be so bold as to inquire… your interview with Dr Strange. It was satisfactory? Did you find what you were looking for?”  
“Yes and no, Jarvis. Yes and no. He gave me everything he had and yet it was all highly unsatisfactory. What I was looking for… I think I know where to find it. Now if only I could make up my mind on whether what I want is what I need,” Tony laughed.  
“Indeed sir,” smiled Jarvis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guido Reni's Michael is the painting I was looking at when describing Jarvis' room. Am not into Renaissance art, but of all angel depictions this one resonates with me. If there were angels, I have no doubt they'd be pensive.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky was right. It was three days before Clint was back. He was brown with road dust and looked exhausted. Between mouthfuls of food he related his adventures.  
“When we got there, the place seemed deserted. But a quick look around told us that the truck was already there and under guard. Jan managed to sneak in between floorboards, man that woman is scary sneaky. She could give Nat a run for her money. Well we waited outside. That was when the other clown drove in with Stark’s truck. Thor and I were convinced she’d been made you know. But we had promised to give her time, so we stayed put. Three hours later madam saunters back like she just came from a Sunday brunch with friends,” Clint stopped to swallow a mouthful and wash it down with warm beer.  
He made a face and continued, “Device is in place. She had a rummage around and got a list of the inventory,” he paused to pull out a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Steve. “She’d got that far when that Rumlow chap showed up. Then she hid in the rafters waiting for things to settle down enough to get away. Steve, shit is worse than we thought.”  
Steve knew that. He was looking at the inventory list of weapons in his hands. If that was the kind of stuff they were moving, Hydra was gearing up for war.  
“What do we know?”  
Sitwell and Rumlow are both Hydra. Rumlow was heading back across the border to Hammer’s secret manufacturing facility. There was some talk of some new chemical weapons that they are mass producing there. Thor decided to follow Rumlow. Sitwell was setting off for a Hydra base in the mountains, so Jan is tailing him. I stayed with the truck because of the stockpile in the city… Steve they are planning to take down Shield. Hammer’s working with Hydra. And he knows all of Shield’s weaknesses. Bastard probably made sure there were plenty weaknesses to find. Is there any more beer?”  
Steve wandered up to the rooftop. Nat was already there, sharpening a small knife. She looked up at him.  
“That bad, huh?”  
“As if you didn’t hear every single word said downstairs,” Steve sighed as he sat down heavily.  
“On the plus side,” Steve said, rolling a small pebble between his fingers, “we have enough targets to keep us busy for a lifetime. On the minus side, looks like it’s not gonna be a long enough lifetime.”  
“I think Stark will help,” said Nat.  
“No. I don’t want him any more involved than he already is. He was right. Nobody knows who we are and that is an advantage when it comes to our lightning strikes. Stark will be a sitting duck if Hydra find that he had any role at all to play. We owe him. Let’s keep him out of this. Let him be safe,” Steve was pleading now. With Nat? With himself? With Fate?  
“Safe. Where will be safe, Steve? Where will be safe when Shield falls and the last flimsy check on Hydra is removed?” Nat pocketed her knife and put away her tools.  
“Do as you deem best, but don’t leave him in the dark. I think Stark deserves to get a heads up about what is coming,” Nat said and jumped off the roof.  
She was all about the dramatic exit.

**

For two days the tracker’s beacon had sat there blinking in the spot marked ‘precinct.’ Then it had moved, a nice zig zag convoluted route until it had finally stopped at an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the city. As soon as the truck had left the precinct, Jarvis had activated his rumour mill and spread word that someone from Stark organization was looking for buyers for Hydra weapons. Tony watched as the blinking light suddenly died out. He let go of a breath he had not realized he was holding. The bomb had gone off then.  
Shield and police had been tipped off. Hopefully there were a few good guys in there to make sure that the plot would come to light. And please please please let there be nothing to tie him to the whole debacle. Steve would have been there, on the spot. Would he come to tell him how the whole thing had gone? Tony slipped off the cuff and rubbed his mark. It had become a habit now. Now that he knew Steve had lost his soulmark… He wondered what the trauma had been that had finally rubbed the mark off. He had kept the mark through all the torture he had experienced in his childhood. So had Tony’s rejection been the final blow? And why did that thought hurt so much?  
Let’s do it then.  
He had no reason to come now. It was done. The job was over. Now Hydra would hunt down the mole, whom they would assume had betrayed them and he would finally know who was the snake in his garden. He was not looking forward to finding out. These people were his family. He stood alone, lost in thought. Darkness fell around him.  
Then something twanged, like a bowstring and he looked up at the monitor bank. His eye unerringly went to the one connected to the camera at the South gate. Steve.  
It felt like ages before the man finally entered the room.  
“It is done,” he said to Tony. There was a smudge of soot across a cheek and his shirt was dotted with small burns where embers had landed. There were scratches on his hands and his knuckles were skinned. He looked messy, but unhurt. Then he smiled.  
Tony struggled to look away. Something had got into his eye. He blinked rapidly.  
“There were no casualties. A lot of the weapons cache was burnt to cinder. I’d like to think we helped. We left when Shield took charge. Nat is watching over the whole thing. We’ll know if something slips through the cracks.”  
Tony nodded. _Where were Pep and Rhodey? Right, he had sent them to check on the other warehouses. There was no one in the compound today. Shit._  
“I know you wont say anything. You never say anything, not even to tell me to shut up and get lost. So, I am going to take advantage of that. I am shameless like that..” Steve laughed. It was a tinkling sound. Like temple bells, or wind chimes. Tony groaned inside.  
“But I wanted to thank you Mr Stark... Tony. I.. I am not like you. I’m not a good man. But knowing you for these last few months… it allowed me to pretend that I was one of the good guys. Fighting the good fight without getting into the gray areas. Sometimes, just knowing there are people like you, good, kind and brilliant, can bring some light to those of us who live in the shadows. That knowledge, that maybe I... we helped... I can’t tell you what that was like. It felt like those things like summer and flowers and colours, beautiful things, good things, like family and tenderness and love… things I had had once, things I had forgotten. For some time I could pretend that I still had those things. That maybe I even deserved to have them. I don’t know why but ever since I met you my memories are trickling back.”  
Tony looked at Steve, eyes wide and confused. _Steve was thanking him? For what?_  
“Something happened to me, long ago, and I think it broke me inside…That is not important. What I’m trying to say is that I am not whole. And I lost more than just my memories,” Steve looked down at his wrist and rubbed a thumb over the grey lines that Tony could barely see at this distance. He didn’t have to say, _I lost my soulmark_.  
“I know you don’t consider me a friend, or anything. But know that I owe you. You’ve given me hope. I may not be whole, but perhaps I can know some peace.” He smiled again.  
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.  
Something inside him was yelling at him. But Tony was numb with shock. _What? What? Hope? Peace? What the everloving fuck?_  
“There is something I need to warn you about. Our intel is that Hydra is planning to make a move against Shield. This will mean war. So, take care ok? And let me know if you ever need me… us… we can help… we’ll be glad to..” Steve extended his hand. Tony looked down at it and saw the curling words on his wrist, teasing him… _This can’t be happening_.  
He pulled his hand back and smiled again. A sad soft thing.  
“It’s alright. I understand. Looks like you have a visitor,” said Steve.  
Tony turned to the monitor bank behind him.  
“Obie,” he said softly. When he turned around, Steve was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

“Tony, Tony, Tony. How are you my son? What is going on?”  
Tony tried to put on a smile, but his mind was still reeling with Steve’s goodbye and his own rather stupefied behaviour.  
“Hey Obie. Anything the matter? You don’t usually..”  
“Yes, yes. I know. I have been ignoring you. Don’t tell me, I made a big mistake didn’t I?” Obie laughed as he reached an arm out and put it around Tony’s shoulder, rather too close around his neck. Tony gave him a weak smile.  
“The minute I turn my back on you, you kids get up some mischief or the other. So, where is everybody? What have you been doing?”  
“You should have more faith in us kids, Obie. After all we built this empire, didn’t we?” Tony was trying to smirk but suddenly his words choked out and he couldn’t breathe. His body felt paralyzed and his legs began to give way. As fell to the floor, he heard Stane’s voice, speaking in the same jovial tone as if he hadn’t just hit Tony with the sonic tazer.  
“That’s where you are wrong, Tony. The empire, it is mine. You, I keep around for your brains and for what you can do for me. All this, it is my work. I gave you a place here, I watched over you growing up. And how do you repay me? You stab me in the back and throw me to the wolves,” Stane clicked his tongue and shook his head as he sat down next to Tony on the floor.  
“You thought that I would go quietly. Well, may be I would. But I’m taking you with,” he grinned and pressed a needle into Tony’s neck.

**

Steve’s wrist was itching again. He needed to do something. His mind was buzzing with all the things he perhaps shouldn’t have said to Stark. He had opened up in a moment of weakness, when he felt he would never see the man again. Now, he just felt embarrassed.  
_Man, he’d been maudlin. What must Tony think of him?_  
Well it didn’t matter. If only he could find something to do. Somewhere to put all this excess energy that was buzzing like white noise inside him. Someway to scratch this damnable itch that was settling right under his bones.  
Nat’s call came in like the answer to all prayers.  
“Hydra is moving.”  
She had snagged a communicator from one of the Hydra militiamen they had knocked out and she had been listening in. They were gathering a small team to move a package. She suspected they had managed to salvage a weapon from the ruins. By the size of the team required, it seemed to be a big gun.  
Steve and Bucky were the only ones combat ready. Clint had taken hit and was recovering.  
In less than half an hour Steve was at the target. Nat was using a stick to draw a rough layout of the building on the dry dust layering the ground.  
“I don’t think it is a weapon they got there Cap,” said Nat. “Couldn’t see clearly but they seemed to be dragging a body.”  
“Abduction?” Steve asked  
“No point dragging dead folks around,” Bucky answered.  
“We have any ideas on the numbers?” asked Steve  
“Minimum of thirteen militiamen that I saw,” said Nat.  
“Interior surveillance?”  
“Highly likely.”  
“Right. Nat will take the top floor. Buck’s ground level. I’m going for the basement. We are going to try silent entry. Keep away from cameras. Anyone spots the communication hub, take it out. This is now a rescue op. Kill anyone that gets in the way, but first priority must be the prisoner. Radio silence until objective is cleared and then we meet at the car.”  
Bucky and Nat nodded and in seconds, Nat was climbing up the wall to effect a roof top entry. A slim line uncoiled and Steve went up next. By the time Bucky got to the roof, Steve was already in the basement and had taken down two militiamen. They didn’t know what hit them. They were guarding the communication room when Steve saw them and before they could reach for the guns in their holsters, he had thrown a couple of knives at the them. In two silent leaps he reached the bodies and caught them before they could thud on to the floor. He listened at the door. There was a muffled conversation and laughter inside the room—two men. Steve knocked on the door.  
“It’s open ya mook. What’ya doing?” came a voice.  
Steve stayed flat against the wall and made no further sound. The door began to open cautiously but Steve kicked it open with all his strength. The man on the other side when flying into the monitor bank and smashed three of them. He would not be getting up again. But the other guy was faster. He was already firing at Steve and the bullets rang out into the open corridor.  
Shit.  
Luckily for Steve the man was none too steady with his hand. His aim was all over the place and Steve was moving quick. Steve grunted as he slid across the floor towards the shooter who had panicked and was now out of bullets. He kicked the man in the knee and when he fell grabbed his gun and butted him hard over the skull. There was a satisfying crunch as the man collapsed on the floor. There were sounds of voices shouting somewhere in the building. Steve pressed a finger to his ear and began scanning the feeds for any signs of his team.  
“Comm centre down. I took out four. Status?”  
“Two down,” came Bucky’s voice followed by a thud, “Three.”  
“Five,” said Nat and they all heard the boom of a grenade going off in the top floor. Steve smiled and did a quick count across all the monitors still active.  
“Widow was off by seven at least. Two coming for Winter. Four headed to Widow.”  
“Copy.”  
“Copy.”  
And then Steve froze. The monitor showing the interrogation room was cracked but the picture was still visible. A man was standing over a body on the ground with a gun in his hand. There was no mistaking the form on the floor.  
“Tony.”


	12. Chapter 12

When Tony came to, his first thought was, _At least there was no bag this time_. The paralysis had left his body stiff and aching. Or was it the drug that Obie had injecting into his neck like a crazy person. Who did that? Who did that to their own nephew?   
Tony’s head was aching and he knew he was not thinking straight. His vision was blurry and the world was swimming around him. He felt like throwing up. And Obie would not stop monologuing.  
 _Will you shut up?_ Tony tried to say. It came out little more than a mumble. He tried to listen to Obie’s plans of world dominion. It made no sense. Either he was still too out of it, or Obie had gone mad. He was leaning towards the latter option.  
In fact he was leaning a bit too far. Somebody stop him leaning. He tried to hold out his arm to steady himself but his coordination was gone. He fell on the floor face first and pain bloomed across his cheek. His teeth cut into his cheek and his mouth filled up with blood.  
 _Ha! Deja fucking vu!_ He spat.  
Face down on the floor turned to be close enough to the recovery position for some of the dizziness to retreat. He noticed Obie’s shining boots near his face. His eyes tracked up the length of the body to look at Obie.  
“What do you want from me?” he croaked.  
“Haven’t you been listening, you little piece of shit? You are going to help me make nice with Hydra. You are going to design enough weapons to make good what was lost today, and them some. Spare me the woe-is-me I don’t do that no more crap. You will either make my bloody weapons or,” and here he pulled out a gun for effect, “you will make one bloody corpse.”  
Tony thought that was a good line. He wished he had thought of it. But who would he have said it to? He had plenty in the narcissism and egoism department but his megalomania cupboard was bare. He realized he was still a bit loopy. He started slurring his words to play for time.  
“Whayawanfrmee?”  
 _Think Tony. Think. Think. This is not where you die. Not now. Not like this. Come on, use that big brain of yours. Think…_  
Tony had registered the distant explosion only as a shaking in the ground that rumbled through him. He hadn’t noticed Obie spin around to face the door, his gun at the ready, making his way carefully towards the only exit.   
He was still exhorting himself to think when the door burst open and two long bangs followed by a crash alerted him to the aching feeling that something was wrong. Something was very wrong.  
He managed to look up in time to see Steve. His face fierce, hands around Obie’s throat. Obie struggling. Obie clawing at Steve’s hands. Obie going pink. Red. Purple. Still.  
Then his eyes went up to Steve’s face. White. And then dropped to his shirt. Red. Red. Red.  
Steve stumbled off Obie’s limp form and crawled towards Tony. “Are you Ok?” he rasped before his hands gave out and he fell forward.  
Tony grabbed for him.   
_No, no, no, no. Not this. Not like this. This can’t be happening._  
“Look at you,” Steve gurgled, wet and coughing blood, “You are an angel after all. You saved me, thank..,” he stuttered and coughed again.  
“This can’t be happening,” Tony cried, “Not like this. This is not what I wanted. No, no.” Steve’s head was somehow in his lap and Tony was crying like an actress in some cheap melodrama, rubbing his hands over Steve’s face. His fingers brushed against something hard in his ear and he pulled out Steve’s comm link. That was when the distant pop pop sounds registered in his head.  
He inserted the link into his ear and activated it.  
“May day. Steve’s been shot. Basement.”   
He kept repeating the words like a lunatic. The pain in his chest growing strong and unbearable. The world went dizzy again and then he collapsed on top of Steve, just as the door burst open. Again.

**

Dr Strange and Dr Banner sat down to exchange notes over a cup of tea in Jarvis’ secret chamber. Jarvis hummed over his own cup.  
“Really, a most curious case, doctor,” said Banner.  
“The soul bond forming at the time just near death seemed to have kicked off some sort of shared life bond. Don’t you agree, doctor?” asked Strange.  
“Yes, yes, yes. Really, most curious. The sedative in one bond mate’s blood seemed to slow down the heart rate and therefore the blood loss in the other bond mate. Right, doctor?” agreed Banner.  
“That was my understanding too, doctor. Although I must add that bonding and mark realizations have a magical aura as well. That must have also helped the men survive what was to both of them a very lethal situation,” said Strange.  
Banner frowned at the mention of magic. This was not his field. But he agreed with the specialist on one fact at least. “You are right about the overdose of the sedative, doctor. It had been injected directly into the bloodstream instead of subcutaneous which would have been more appropriate. So it was indeed fortunate that the worst of its effects were absorbed by Rogers instead,” said Banner.  
“The man Stane was mad to have tried it, doctor. He could have killed Stark,” said Strange.  
“He definitely did try to kill Rogers. Two shots, both lethal. One collapsed the lung, the other nicked the aorta. The aorta, doctor! I’ve never heard of anyone surviving such injuries. Have you, doctor?” asked Banner.  
“Let us be grateful that whatever role luck played in their lives, it did work out for them and they are both alive. Life has not been easy for either of them. Perhaps they were due some good luck,” said Jarvis.  
The three men sipped on their excellent tea and contemplated the nature of miracles.


	13. Epilogue

“That was not how I wanted you to find out,” Tony said to Steve’s shoulder as they both lay in hospital beds next to each other.  
They had been conscious for a while now. They had both been fussed over by their own set of friends. Pepper and Rhodey making a nuisance of themselves at Tony’s bedside. Bucky and Nat glaring at nurses and being stoic at Steve’s side. Then Dr Strange and Dr Banner had joined the party and none of the hospital staff found themselves capable of throwing anybody out of the recovery room.  
They had finally left the two men alone only when the champagne finally ran out. Bucky and Rhodey had shoved their beds together and told them to be good and laughed on their way out. There was still one lone balloon bumping up against the ceiling. ‘Get swell soon’ it read. The room was quiet but for the clicks and beeps of the machines around them.  
Steve reached out and held Tony’s hand in a loose fist.  
“I had forgotten my words,” he whispered. “I didn’t recognize it when you said them. I felt the bond form but I thought that I was dying… I mean I didn’t know what to expect but you shining like that, and the warm feeling of kindness… and peace. I thought it was a sign, like redemption, or absolution… I don’t know…” Steve faltered.  
“Nothing like almost dying to get a religious experience. I hope you got it out of your system,” Tony laughed.  
Steve pretended to think. “Yep, all agnostic again.”  
“What did you mean you had forgotten the words?”  
“When I was a teenager, I woke up in the snow and... well, my wrist was blank and I had lost all my memories,” Steve said.  
“But I saw the unrealized words… I read your soulmark.. in the cellar.. when I.. when you..” Tony was confused.  
Steve jerked his head to look at Tony. The movement made him wince, and he squeaked, “What?”  
Tony said nothing. Steve closed his eyes. Tony watched the glint at the the corner of his eyes, trapped between long lashes, catching the light and refracting into colours. _God, but you are beautiful_. Tony gulped around the lump in his throat.  
“Only you could see it then,” Steve whispered. “Only you.”  
He lifted his arm up and showed the words in question, now dark inked and visible— _This can’t be happening_.  
Tony laughed. “I had this whole book of quotations that I thought would be cool things to have on one’s wrist. I mean, I wanted to say something sublime and meaningful to my soulmate,” Tony laughed.  
“As opposed to something stupid like _Let’s do it then_?” Steve smiled.  
“Hey don’t knock my soulmark. My soulmate is a vigilante and he likes to think he is a tough guy,” Tony said.  
“He doesn’t, really. He knows he is rather pathetic,” Steve smiled and then he sighed, “Tony, I am sorry for everything. You really deserve someone better. I am not a good man…”  
“Yeah, you keep saying that. You forget that I have an access VIP pass into your head. I have been watching your memories ever since…” Tony pointed vaguely to his wrist.  
“I think you unlocked them somehow.”  
“Yeah, I get that now. Couldn’t understand why you were happy at your mother’s funeral,” Tony grumbled.  
“I had forgotten what she looked like. I knew it was you…somehow you were in my head and making things easier. I felt you. Couldn’t understand it. I can't tell you how happy it made me... not to be alone. I thought may be that is what it felt like to be in love,” said Steve.  
“What? To early to drop the ‘L’ bomb Steve,” Tony said, but there was no resentment in his voice.  
Steve squeezed Tony’s hand and said, “Too late. I was happy to be in love. I used to think I couldn't you know, feel things. Like there was no room for anything other than pain. I think I fell in love when you looked at me like I was a monster.. You made me look at myself. See what I had become and you made me want to do better. Not because of something trite like a desire to be worthy of you… but the feeling that may be I don’t need to wallow in the pit I had been thrown into. May be I could be more than what circumstances had reduced me to. I didn’t need you in my life Tony… I wanted you, of course I wanted you.. But I what I really needed was you in this world. People like you, who make it all better just by being yourself. And showing people like me, that may be we could do..”  
“Ok stop, you make me blush and that is not a good look on me,” Tony sniffed.  
“Who told you that?” Steve was looking at him with a smile that was all kinds of illegal, “I think it’s the best look on you."  
Tony went coquettish, "Why Captain Rogers, I do believe you are being fresh with me."  
Steve went silent at that. Tony watched him staring up at the ceiling. "Steve?" he prompted. "Does that mean you forgive me then?" he whispered, both hopeful and afraid. "One of us should. Doesn't seem like you are ready to forgive yourself," Tony sighed. "Look I can't promise that things will be roses all the way, but let's give each other a chance. That is what this is, after all," he waved at their joined wrist, "a chance at being whole. Let's see how we fit together. Let's take a chance." He sang the words like an out of tune song, "Baby let's take this chance." "Hmm, I love your voice Tony. I didn't know what I was missing."  
"You lay it on thick like that darling and I'm never shutting up,” Tony smirked.  
Steve began laughing, then he yelped. His body was stitching itself back together at an accelerated rate. Tony groaned in sympathy. He felt the pull in the lungs and cradled his hand above the phantom hole in his body.  
“Let’s never do this again,” Tony smiled weakly.  
Steve nodded. And Tony lifted up their joined hands to press a kiss on Steve’s knuckles.  
“So this is happening?” Steve murmured into Tony’s hair.  
“This is happening,” Tony promised.

POST SCRIPT

And yes, they lived happily ever after. No, I lie. There is no such thing as happily ever after. But there is together, with all the love, laughter, drama, and disappointment that is life, but together never the less. They lived and loved, together. Raining fire on Hydra's mountain retreat and on Hammer's munition factory from Tony's modified zepplin. They call themselves Avengers because Bucky did not want to be called one of Steve's Howler monkeys. Tony likes to think he is a Sky Pirate. Skyrate? Spirate? Steve doesn't care what they are called as long as Nat doesn't jump off the Zepplin and Clint doesn't shoot arrows through the gas envelope and Tony talks. Which he does, all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it is done. All my words are read. Thank you for soldiering through, and thanks for leaving kudos and comments. I greatly appreciate the ego massage--best way to get rid of that kink in the creative process called self-doubt.


End file.
